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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26834740">Lazy Morning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hot_elf/pseuds/Hot_elf'>Hot_elf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Old Guard - Nicky &amp; Joe [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Morning Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:02:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26834740</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hot_elf/pseuds/Hot_elf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe wakes up slowly, and he loves it.<br/>Just a quick one shot inspired by the two of them waking up in each other's arms.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Old Guard - Nicky &amp; Joe [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961992</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>169</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lazy Morning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Joe wakes up slowly, and he loves it. He relishes every minute of it, of that gentle, gradual return to consciousness after a good night's sleep, so unlike the brutal cruelty of being jerked back to life following yet another brush with death.</p><p>He feels a slow smile spread across his face as, one by one, his senses get reacquainted with the world around him. Touch comes first: the warm, comforting weight of Nicky's body on his left arm; the tickle of his fine hair against Joe's nose; the softness of the mattress below them. Next is smell: the familiar scent of his lover's skin; the faint lavender aroma of the sheets; a hint of woodsmoke from the fireplace. And finally, sight and sound: the plain white walls of the room slowly swimming back into focus, then the pattern of the blanket that covers them both; the echo of voices in the distance, too remote to threaten the peace of the moment. He sighs happily, snuggling closer to Nicky.</p><p>There's no rush to his movements as he embraces his beloved, one hand firm on Nicky's bare chest, his erection sliding against the cleft of his perfect ass. Without missing a beat, Nicky pushes back against him, with just the right amount of pressure to draw a small moan from Joe's lips. They both repeat the manoeuvre, once, twice, settling into a rhythm designed to keep them both on the edge for as long as humanly possible.</p><p>It's a dance they both excel at, having literally had a thousand years to practise it, a wordless celebration of their bond, where physical pleasure and emotional closeness are inextricably tied together, an experience bordering on sublime. In fact, it's probably the closest thing to spirituality either of them knows nowadays. Immortality is not conducive to religious devotion, and they've both struggled with their respective faiths over the years, but they have found their own way to touch eternity.</p><p>For the longest time, Joe is perfectly content with the pace they've set, with the slow, steady build-up. But even now, after all those years, Nicky is still able to surprise him, to shake him out of their routine. It's a small change, just the tiniest tilt of his head, or maybe a shift of his hip, but suddenly everything is different. There are no words to explain it, but there's something about the line of his spine, about the way he moves… a reminder of another time they made love perhaps? Whatever it is, it triggers a reaction in Joe, deep down in the lower cortex of his brain, and all at once, there's an urgency, a <em>need</em> that wasn't there before.</p><p>"Nicolò," he gasps, and of course his lover understands. They've long since moved past the need for words.</p><p>Chuckling softly, Nicky stretches until he can reach the drawer next to the bed, fumbling about for a few interminable seconds, before he locates the small bottle of lube and tosses it back over his shoulder to Joe, who hastily catches it. They don't need it, strictly speaking, but it is one modern convenience they've both come to appreciate.</p><p>It's nice to know that he won't hurt Nicky, Joe muses, as he squeezes a small amount onto his fingers, but it's more than that. He actually <em>likes</em> the way it feels, the contrast of the cool gel with the heat of Nicky's body; the slickness, the obscene easiness with which his fingers find their goal; the smell of the stuff, even – not that it's particularly nice in itself, but by now, his body is conditioned to associate it with pleasant experiences.</p><p>As if to confirm his train of thoughts, his cock twitches against the back of Nicky's thigh, and Nicky responds with a small, throaty chuckle, pushing back into his touch with the same eagerness. But Joe forces himself to wait a little longer, to extend the pleasure and the torment both, until they blend into each other to create a perfect storm.</p><p>"Patience," he mutters in Nicky's ear.</p><p>It's a deliberate provocation, of course, and he's rewarded with a stifled gasp, and then a string of Italian curses. The words tumbling from his lover's beautiful lips are so filthy and yet so heart-felt that no translation could possibly do them justice. And Joe loves that, he gets a thrill from the knowledge that the two of them are probably the last two people alive who can fully understand these words, the only ones who can appreciate the rich earthiness of an obscure medieval dialect, otherwise long since forgotten and buried.</p><p>Nicky moans, deep in his throat, and it's the most beautiful sound ever. Joe hums soothingly, placing a calming hand on his trembling flanks, but if he's honest he's anything but calm himself. How is it even possible that he still <em>wants</em> that man so much? Yes, what they have goes beyond mere desire, but that craving alone is still so powerful, so raw that it would be enough to make him crawl back to Nicky's door and beg for more, should they ever be separated.</p><p>But they won't, he swears to himself, even as he carefully aligns their bodies. Nothing and no one will separate them, ever. His first thrust is deep already, deep and confident, and it tears another moan from his lover's throat. Joe watches, entranced, as Nicky's fine features contort in ecstasy, while his fingers scrabble for purchase on the cool linen of the bed.</p><p>With one hand, Joe grabs those fingers, firmly anchoring Nicky, using his other hand to steady himself as he pulls back and then thrusts again. And yes, there it is, the memory he'd been searching for earlier, in the perfect curve of Nicky's spine, need and surrender in equal measure, so indescribably beautiful that Joe feels tears spring to his eyes.</p><p>It all becomes a blur afterwards. Their bodies move of their own accord, no conscious thought involved, just heat and sweat and the pounding of their hearts as they both chase that elusive, perfect moment of release. When it finally comes, it is almost unbearably sweet, an overwhelming, hot rush of pleasure drowning them both, making them lose track of place and time. Joe literally no longer knows what century this is, what country they're in, and he couldn't care less, because all that counts is the man in his arms, the expression on Nicky's face as he comes all over his hand, the look in his eyes as they embrace afterwards.</p><p>"Another thousand years with you won't be enough," he vows, voice brittle with passion, unable to contain the feelings within him. "I will never, ever be parted from you."</p><p>Nicky laughs softly, ruffling his hair and muttering something about sappiness, but his face is a picture of happiness, and his eyes shine with love.</p><p>Joe rolls onto his back, his body heavy with bliss. Maybe he really is an incurable romantic.</p><p>But then again, why shouldn't he be? If anyone deserves a little romance, it's them.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>All the hugs and thanks to my wonderful beta suilven.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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